


The Language of Flowers

by beargirl1393



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Gen, Language of Flowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beargirl1393/pseuds/beargirl1393
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John thinks the florist is flirting with him.</p><p>A flowershop AU for sherandjohn for the exchangelock gift exchange</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lohac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lohac/gifts).



> It's been awhile since I studied the language of flowers, so all of my information came from http://thelanguageofflowers.com/ and the book 'The Language of Flowers' by Kate Greenaway. The meanings of the flowers are in the end notes.

John thinks the florist is flirting with him.

It’s nothing overt, of course. That wouldn’t fit the man’s style. John might not know Sherlock Holmes very well, but for all that the man is arrogant and dramatic, overt gestures of affection wouldn’t fit with who the man is.

It started when he got back from Afghanistan. He couldn’t afford to stay in London on his own, didn’t find anyone looking for a flatshare, so he moved back to his childhood house. His parents were both dead, and Harry never went back, so it was empty before he moved in. He cleaned it, tried to make it look lived in, mostly for something to do. His days were so empty, compared to the constant action he was used to during the war. That was why he started walking to the cemetery, deciding to take flowers to put on his parents’ graves.

Originally, he only planned to go once, on his mother’s birthday, and not go back until the next year. He stopped at the flower shop, relatively new, to get flowers to put on his mother’s grave. The florist was tall, dark haired, and with extraordinary eyes. Pale as frost, and gleaming with intelligence. It was his first sign that the other man was clever. He didn’t realize how brilliant Sherlock Holmes was until he spoke, asking a single question. ‘Afghanistan or Iraq?’ No one had told him, no one needed to. The deductions had blown John away, honestly, and he hadn’t refrained from telling the other man that. Sherlock had seemed startled, and he confessed that that was not the typical reaction. They laughed over that.

He bought a bouquet of lily of the valley, recalling that they had always been his mother’s favorite. The small, white blossoms were familiar, although his mother had always had a difficult time finding them. Sherlock had grimaced at that, saying something about his supplier being very well connected. When John had paid and was ready to go, Sherlock had pressed a yellow rose into his hand, waving off his instinctual protest and offer of payment.

John had gone home after leaving the lilies on his mother’s grave, finding an old jam jar that he could press into service as a vase. He planned on going to the library soon, to pick up a book on how to press flowers. The yellow rose was beautiful, and although he didn’t know why Sherlock had given it to him, he was touched nonetheless.

After that, a pattern formed.

John would go to the flower shop once a week, on the pretense of buying flowers for his mother’s grave, when in reality he was going to talk to Sherlock. He learned bits and pieces about the man, how he came to own the flower shop, a little about his past. Inconsequential things, maybe, but things no one else knew about Sherlock, other than his family.

At the end of each visit, Sherlock would press another flower into his hand, not explaining why or accepting payment. John had gotten used to it, and he did go to the library, carefully pressing each flower and keeping them.

Sherlock never explained why he was giving John the flowers, and he never let him pay for them. John kept each one, putting them in a frame once they had been pressed. It gave a little life to the house (odd how dead flowers made the place _more_ cheerful rather than less, something he would attribute to the man who had given him them), and he couldn’t help but smile every time he passed the frame.

* * *

 

It was curiosity that led to him checking out the book. He had gone to the library to return a few books that he had borrowed and to check out a few more, and while he was browsing he found a book about the so called language of flowers. He’d never heard of it before, but he ended up taking that book home with him, getting the flowers Sherlock had given him and that he had carefully pressed out of the frame and setting them on his desk, the book and a blank notebook in front of him as he carefully began to go through, searching for the meanings of the flowers. Some had more than one meaning, of course, but he was surprised at what he found.

A yellow rose symbolized joy and friendship. A carnation symbolized fascination. Chrysanthemum, Camilla, Acacia, Black Poplar.

And then, the meanings changed. Stock and magenta Zinna. Another carnation, accompanied by a red carnation. He remembered Sherlock had given them both together, as though he didn’t want to repeat himself but wanted to give John the flower anyway. Gloxinia followed by a daffodil, and if John was reading this right he had been unspeakably stupid.

He gently ran his fingers over the dried petals of the last flower that Sherlock had given him, jonquil. He would be going back to the flower shop in two days. Sherlock had put his heart in John’s hands, even if he hadn’t known it at first. Now it was time for him to return the favor. But first, he needed to get in touch with Sherlock’s ‘supplier’. There were a few flowers that he needed that weren’t in the typical stock.

* * *

 

John smiled at the shock on Sherlock’s face when he walked into the flower shop carrying a bouquet of assorted flowers. “Seems a bit strange to be giving flowers to a florist,” he said, smiling. “But I have a feeling you’ll want these ones.”

Some of them were the same as the ones Sherlock had given him. A yellow rose, a chrysanthemum. But there was also white acacia, because John thought you would have to be blind to miss Sherlock’s elegance. There was bittersweet, and it was aptly defined in his opinion, as Sherlock’s truths could be dreadful, while others could be lovely. Amaryllis, because he knew that Sherlock was a proud man. A red chrysanthemum, and a white one as well. A red carnation accompanied by a pink one, solid colors and bright in the bouquet. Arbutus, and then there was only one left. Although the other flowers had said it (and really, he should have guessed that a genius like Sherlock would use a rarely spoken language to confess his affection), John smiled as he handed over the last flower, ambrosia.

Sherlock seemed frozen, at first, but then suddenly the flowers were set carefully, reverently aside as he embraced John. Murmurs of ‘I thought you would never figure it out’ and ‘When was I supposed to have found time to study flower language?’ passed between the two, and Sherlock didn’t ask how John had gotten all of the flowers so quickly, and John didn’t tell him that it was his ‘supplier’ (his brother Mycroft, who had set him up with the business in the first place), because there was no need.

They did eventually talk about it, at length. Over the years there would be many such talks, but sometimes, regardless of how long they were together, John would wake up to a flower on Sherlock’s pillow while the man himself was elsewhere, or Sherlock would find one carefully pressed and resting in the pages of one of his books. Sherlock had always found it hard to talk about his feelings, after all, and after that memorable day, John had always had a fondness for the language of flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> Lily of the Valley- Return of happiness  
> Yellow rose- joy, friendship  
> Carnation, general- Fascination; Divine Love  
> Chrysanthemum, general- You're A Wonderful Friend; Cheerfulness and Rest  
> Camellia- Admiration; Perfection; Good Luck, Gift to a Man  
> Acacia- friendship  
> Black Poplar- courage  
> Stock- Bonds of Affection; Promptness; You'll Always Be Beautiful to Me  
> magenta Zinna- Lasting Affection  
> red Carnation- my heart aches for you, admiration  
> Gloxinia- love at first sight  
> Daffodil- Regard; Unrequited Love; You're the Only One; The Sun is Always Shining When I'm with You  
> Jonquil- Love Me; Affection Returned; Desire; Sympathy; Desire for Affection Returned  
> white Acacia- elegance  
> Bittersweet- Truth  
> Amaryllis- Pride  
> red Chrysanthemum- I Love  
> white Chrysanthemum- Truth  
> pink Carnation- I'll Never Forget You  
> Carnation, solid color - Yes  
> Ambrosia - Your Love is Reciprocated  
> Arbutus- Thee Only Do I Love


End file.
